


Secret Keeper

by Ink_Gypsy



Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: M/M, casey/zeke fics, feed my muse, prompt fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6023392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_Gypsy/pseuds/Ink_Gypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Casey is hurt, he receives some unexpected help from Zeke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Keeper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [claudia603](https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia603/gifts).



> Written for Claudia603, who requested some Casey/Zeke: "I would love a Faculty fic with h/c!"
> 
> This take place pre-invasion.

Zeke Tyler felt like he'd fallen down the rabbit hole. It was the only explanation he could think of for the surreal scene playing out in his house. Casey Connor, the weird little dude who was never without his camera, the football team's favorite target, was sitting on his living room couch eating a bowl of soup that Zeke himself had made for him. Okay, made was stretching things. All he'd done was empty the can into a bowl and pop it into the microwave, but still, he'd done it himself. It was the last thing he'd expected to be doing, but what choice did he have when the little geek had looked so small and helpless?

It wasn't as if Zeke had gone looking for Casey, but his daily torment at the hands of the school jocks was as regular as clockwork, starting the minute Casey got off the bus. Usually it was an elbow to the nose, but sometimes they got creative, slamming Casey’s groin into the flag pole, leaving him writhing on the ground. So on Monday morning when he didn't hear the morning name-calling and the idiotic laughter from the Neanderthals who made up the Herrington football team, Zeke surmised that Casey wasn't in school, which in itself was unusual since Casey tended to follow the rules, including attending classes daily.

When the torment began, practically from Casey's first day in high school, Zeke was surprised that his parents didn't put him in private school to spare him, but maybe they couldn't afford it, or maybe his father thought his son taking his lumps would make a man of him.

Casey was short, at least a head shorter than anyone else in the Junior class, including the girls, and slight in build, plus he had a pretty face that would have bartenders carding him well into his 20's. And he was smart, high IQ smart, the combination of those physical and mental qualities making him the perfect target for the bullies who, as bullies normally did, preyed on the smaller and weaker. With all those strikes against him, it probably wouldn't have mattered _where_ Casey went to school. Zeke imagined Casey knew this, and was sticking it out at Herrington High, counting the days until he could go away to college, as far away from Ohio as possible. 

Zeke himself had similar plans, even though as one of the cool kids, he had no need to leave Herrington. It didn't escape Zeke that because of his cool kid status, he could have done something to stop Casey's tormentors, but it wasn't if the kid was really being hurt. Sure, bloody noses and bruised balls were unpleasant, but not life-threatening, so Zeke went on minding his own business and let it continue. He probably wouldn’t have given it a second thought if fate hadn’t intervened.

It was curiosity more than interest that had Zeke stopping in front of the grade school playground early Friday evening. Its colorful jungle gym, slide, see-saw and roundabout were all standing still this late in the day, the playground deserted since most folks were sitting down to dinner at this hour. What had caught Zeke’s attention as he was driving by was the row of belt swings, which should have been as empty as the rest of the playground equipment. Instead, one swing was occupied, and while the figure sitting on it was small, Zeke knew for a fact that he had left grade school behind years ago.

Zeke pulled the GTO over to the curb and got out. He came up behind the figure, who sat with his head down, his hands wrapped around the chains of the motionless swing. Coming to stand in front of him, Zeke said, “You surprise me, Connor. You’re the last person I’d expect to pull a _Ferris Bueller_.”

When Casey’s head came up in surprise, the sight of his face had Zeke’s stomach churning. Casey’s left eye was blackened, there was a large bruise on his left cheek, and he had a split lip. He was pale, making the marks on his face look more vivid on his pallid skin. His clothes had patches of dirt on them as if he'd spent some time on the ground, and there were streaks of blood on his shirt.

“Jesus, Connor!” Shocked by the sight of him, Zeke demanded, “Did Gabe and the rest of those assholes do this to you?” Embarrassed to be seen like this by Zeke of all people, Casey looked away, but Zeke wasn’t going to give up until he had an answer to his question. “Dammit, I know those guys like to give you grief, but I never thought they’d go this far.”

“It wasn’t Gabe or the others,” Casey said softly.

Zeke crouched down so he’d be on eye-level with the seated Casey. “Then who?”

Casey looked down again. “It doesn’t matter.”

It sure as fuck did matter, but trying a different tact, Zeke asked, “Are you badly hurt? Have you seen a doctor?”

Casey shook his head. “It looks worse than it is.”

Zeke sighed. “At least let me drive you home.”

“No!" Casey's voice was raised as if in fear. "No, please. My Mom can’t see me like this.”

Casey’s vehemence took Zeke by surprise. “Connor, those bruises are at least twenty-four hours old. What did your mother say when she saw you last night?”

“Nothing,” Casey admitted, “because she didn’t see me. I didn’t go home last night.”

“You stayed out all night and your folks weren’t worried?” Zeke questioned.

“I told my Mom I was going to a party, so I called her and said since it was so late, I was spending the night with a friend from school.” Casey smiled weakly. “Mom was so thrilled to hear I was going to a party, that I actually had a friend, that she didn't ask for any details, and didn’t even consider that I wasn't telling the truth.”

“So where _did_ you spend the night?” Zeke asked.

“Right here. I slept on one of the benches the Moms sit on while their kids are playing.”

It could have been worse, Zeke thought. It could have been the dead of winter. “And you've been hanging out here all day?” he wanted to know.

Casey shrugged. “It seemed far enough away from the high school that no one I knew would see me."

"And where will you stay tonight?"

"I guess I’ll just stay here again.”

“And what lie will you tell your Mom this time?”

“That I’m spending another night with the same friend.”

“For what reason?”

Casey considered. “I could say we’re working on a school project together or…”

"Or?" Zeke prompted. He took the swing next to Casey, his long legs moving it back and forth slowly as he spoke. “If you’re planning on staying away from home until those bruises fade, you’re going to have to find a place to stay for the next couple of days." When the idea came to him, Zeke was surprised at its simplicity. “You can come home with me, stay at my house.”

Casey frowned. “Very funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke. It was an invitation.” When Casey didn’t reply, Zeke asked, “What, you have a problem spending the night with me?”

Casey’s pulse quickened when Zeke said the words _spending the night with me_ , even though he knew Zeke hadn’t meant them that way. “Why would you do that?” he wondered. “You’re not my friend. You hate me just like the rest of them.”

Until today, Casey had only been in Zeke's peripheral vision, but he certainly didn’t hate him, and now, looking at the damage done to Casey’s face, which made him look even more waif-like than he had before, Zeke actually felt guilty that he hadn’t done something to stop Casey’s torture at the hands of the football team. “Look, Casey,” he said, using his first name for the first time, and speaking with uncharacteristic empathy, “you need a place to stay and I have a place. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that, so why don't you do the smart thing and say yes?”

Because Casey’s body was one, big ache, he gave in with a simple, “Okay.” And since he hadn’t eaten anything all day but the remains of a bag of pretzels one of the Moms had left on her bench when she took her toddler home, he felt dizzy and weak, weak enough that he didn’t object when Zeke helped him to the GTO and even buckled his seatbelt for him.

After Zeke started the car, Casey rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he felt Zeke gently shaking him awake and telling him, “We’re here.”

Casey had never been to Zeke’s house, and as far as he knew, no other guy from Herrington High had either, though he imagined any number of female students had been given a tour of Zeke’s home, most notably his bedroom.

Zeke lived a life unlike any teenager Casey knew. His parents were never home, always “traveling” to Europe or some other exotic location, so considering how rarely he saw them, Zeke could have been an orphan. But he wasn't an orphan, and because he was old enough not to need a babysitter, Zeke lived in the Tyler home alone, with no supervision and no restrictions on what he could or couldn’t do. Zeke was living every teen’s dream, yet he never seemed happy to Casey. He was always sarcastic and condescending, and it was obvious by his attitude that he didn’t care what anyone thought of him, but it was a different Zeke who sat opposite Casey in the Tyler living room.

This Zeke was friendly, even caring, a side of him Casey had never seen. The first thing Zeke did after Casey sat on the sofa was get him an ice pack for his eye and cheek. "This would have worked better if you'd done it last night," he said, "but it might still help some."

Casey pressed the pack first to his cheek, then to his eye, grateful for the cold against his bruised flesh. "That feels great," he sighed, letting his head fall back against the back of the sofa and closing his eyes.

"You must be hungry," Zeke surmised, and went into the kitchen.

Casey heard the whirring of the microwave, and five minutes later, Zeke returned with a steaming bowl of what turned out to be chicken noodle soup. He spooned some into his mouth, savoring the warmth and the taste.

"How is it?" Zeke asked.

Casey swallowed the mouthful of broth and noodles. It was comfort food, warming his spirit as well as his belly. "It's good," he said. "Thanks."

"When you're ready to turn in, just say so."

"Thanks," Casey said again, wishing he could come up with a different word to express his gratitude. They sat in silence while he finished his soup, and after he had, put the bowl on the coffee table. Desperate for something to do to make him feel less awkward in Zeke's house, he pushed down on the sofa cushions and announced, "Our couch is really lumpy, but I'll sleep great on this."

"You would," Zeke agreed, "but you won't be sleeping on it."

Casey should have expected it, but he'd allowed himself to be taken in. Zeke had seemed so sincere, but all the while he'd been playing a sick joke on him, pretending to help him, letting him get comfortable then pulling the rug out from under him. And he hadn't seen it coming because despite how unlikely it had seemed that Zeke wanted to be his friend, Casey had wanted to believe it was true.

Dragging himself to his feet, Casey started for the front door, and even though he felt totally drained, both emotionally and physically, he turned back to Zeke and offered a defiant, "Thanks for nothing."

"Where do you think you're going?" Zeke asked, sounding as if he was surprised to see Casey was able to stand on his own.

Exasperated, Casey said, "Enough already, Zeke. You got me, so it's time to end the joke."

Zeke looked confused. "I told you, inviting you to stay here wasn't a joke."

"It wasn't a joke, but I'm not good enough to sleep on your couch?" To Casey's frustration, Zeke smiled, causing Casey to tell him, "Fuck you, Tyler."

"Calm down, Connor," Zeke said, taking Casey's arm and leading him back to the sofa. "The reason you're not sleeping on my couch is because you're going to sleep in my parents' bed."

"Your parents' bed?" Casey asked. "Won't they mind?"

"Why should they? They're not using it. In fact, they've slept in it so rarely the mattress is practically brand new."

Casey was so taken by surprise that he had to fall back on the word he felt he'd already over-used. "Thanks."

"It has a private bathroom," Zeke went on, "so feel free to take a shower if you want."

Casey shook his head. "Too tired."

"Up to you," Zeke said with a shrug. "I don't think I have anything that will fit you, so you can throw your clothes in the washing machine tomorrow."

Casey almost said thanks again, but settled for, "That'd be great."

Zeke picked up the soup bowl. "You look like you're out on your feet. Why don't you go to bed? I'll keep the noise down."

Casey smiled for the first time in days. "You could march a brass band through here and I don't think it would wake me up." Nodding his head in the direction of the staircase, he questioned, "Your folks' room is upstairs?"

"Yeah, second room on the left."

"Goodnight, Zeke," Casey said through a yawn, and started up the stairs.

"You should call your Mom, tell her you're staying here," Zeke suggested. "We wouldn't want her to think you've been kidnapped."

"I will," Casey promised, then went upstairs. He used the phone in the hall to make his call to his mother, feeling even guiltier than he already did when she told him how happy she was that he was spending time at a friend's house, and not to forget to thank his friend's parents for letting him stay overnight. He hated lying to her, but it couldn't be helped.

When he stepped inside Zeke's parents' room, the only thing Casey noticed was the bed, which was huge. He toed off his sneakers, stripped off his jeans and shirt, and wearing only his boxers, fell face-first onto the middle of it. Moments later he was asleep, and didn't wake up until ten o'clock the next morning.

The first thing Casey did after he got up was take the shower he'd rejected last night, and when he came out of the bathroom, he was surprised to see his jeans and tee-shirt clean and neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Zeke must have come in and taken his clothes after he was asleep, and returned them while he was in the shower. He got dressed, and while he considered leaving on his boxers, since he'd been wearing the same pair for almost three days, he changed his mind, stripped them off and went commando. It wasn't like anyone -- especially not Zeke -- would notice that part of his anatomy.

The living room was empty when he came downstairs, but before Casey could look for him, Zeke called out, "In the kitchen." Casey found him at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in front of him. "Morning," Zeke offered.

"Yeah, good morning." Casey pointed to his shirt and jeans. "I didn't expect you to do my laundry."

"It's not rocket science."

"No, I just meant… When you said we could clean my clothes, I figured you'd just let me use your washing machine, but thanks."

"No big deal. Want some breakfast?"

"Sure."

Zeke nodded. "I've got cold cereal, frozen waffles, or if you're game, I can manage eggs."

"You cook?" Casey asked in surprise, but when Zeke shot him a look he quickly added, "I know, it's not rocket science. And eggs would be great."

Zeke asked, "How do you want them?"

"However you're having them is fine."

Zeke nodded. "Scrambled then."

The eggs were great. Zeke had added cheddar cheese to them, and served them with bacon and even a side of buttered toast. Casey shoveled the food in, causing Zeke to tell him, "Take a breath. There's no time limit on breakfast."

"Sorry." Casey slowed his pace. "That soup you made me was the only real food I've had since Thursday. And they're really good."

"Glad you like them." Zeke sat down with a plate of his own and began to eat.

For a few minutes the only sound in the kitchen was the scraping of forks against plates as they ate. Finally Casey broke the silence. "I guess you still want to know what happened to me."

Zeke shrugged. "Up to you."

"Well, since you're letting me stay here, I suppose I owe you an explanation." Zeke didn't disagree with his reasoning, so Casey began, "Thursday night, after dinner, I went to this bar on the outskirts of town. It's called--"

"Aces," Zeke supplied.

Casey dropped his fork, his mouth opening in surprise. "You've heard of it?"

"It's the only gay bar within fifty miles of Herrington. Everybody's heard of it."

Casey picked up his fork and began to eat again, but with less enthusiasm than before. "If you know it's a gay bar then you know why I was going there." When Zeke didn't offer any comment, Casey continued. "Guess it's not much of a surprise. The other guys at school have been calling me queer since second grade. Now you know it's true." 

Zeke stopped eating. "Somebody at Aces beat you up?"

"No," Casey said quickly. "I hung around outside for a while till I got up the nerve to go inside, but once I did, I was really surprised. I don't know what I expected, maybe chains and leather, but the guys were ordinary-looking. There were even some girls there, and everybody was friendly. Then the bartender asked to see my I.D." He grimaced. "You have to be eighteen just to be in the bar, and twenty-one to drink, so he said I had to leave."

Zeke nodded. "Then what happened?"

"As soon as I went outside, three guys got out of a car that had been parked in the lot when I got there. They surrounded me, and there was a lot of name calling: queer, faggot, cocksucker, the usual." Casey touched his still-tender eye. "At least they only used their fists on me. They could have had bats. I'm just glad I left my camera in my locker or they'd have it now." He tried a smile. "It could have been a lot worse, but a bunch of guys from the bar must have heard the noise and came outside. When they saw what was going on, they ran to help me. The guys who jumped me saw they were outnumbered so they ran back to their car and took off."

"Fucking cowards!" Zeke said through gritted teeth, his hand gripping his fork like a weapon.

Casey was surprised at the anger in Zeke's voice. Could he really have been wrong about Zeke all this time? Was it possible he wasn't like the other guys at school? "When I told them I was going to walk home," he said, "one of the guys who helped me gave me a ride back to town. I made him leave me in front of a neighbor's house, then walked back to the playground. I used the pay phone to call my mother then I just stayed there."

"Maybe you should have gone home," Zeke suggested. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"My Mom would have freaked out. If she thought I'd gotten into a fight with someone at the party I was supposedly at, she would have demanded to know who he was, probably want to call his parents. A lie isn't always wrong if it saves someone from getting hurt."

"Speaking of your Mom," Zeke reminded him, "don't you think you should call her again, tell her you're spending the day."

"I didn't know I was."

"Get with the program, Connor. The idea was for you to stay out of sight, right? So that means you're staying inside today."

"What am I supposed to tell her is the reason I'm staying with my good friend for another day?"

"You can tell her that your friend has some new video games he wants to play, and that he needs a worthy opponent."

Casey smiled. "That's a great cover story."

"And the best part is, it isn't even a lie."

"Huh?"

Zeke pushed back from the table and brought his dishes to the sink. "Finish your breakfast, make your phone call, then prepare to be humiliated by the master."

Casey actually laughed. "In your dreams, Tyler."

Zeke wasn't the master he professed to be, but he was damn good, winning half of the games they played. Casey enjoyed himself so much that he actually forgot the reason he was at Zeke's. During the heat of the match, he actually felt as if he was just hanging out with a friend. That feeling continued when Zeke ordered pizza and they took a break from the PlayStation, razzing each other about their gaming skills while they ate lunch.

For dinner, Zeke went out and brought back burgers, fries and shakes, and Casey wondered if he ate this way all the time. His mother was a good cook, and always made him and his father nutritious meals, but since Zeke was on his own, his diet was his own, and Casey was enjoying the fast food he rarely got at home.

Casey didn't expect Zeke to spend another night babysitting him. Being Saturday night, he assumed Zeke would have a date, but rather than preparing to go out, Zeke seemed to be settling in for the night. That turned out to be the case when Zeke said, "How about a movie?"

"It's Saturday night," Casey replied. "Wouldn't you rather go out?" At Zeke's quizzical look he hurriedly added, "Not with me, of course."

Zeke smirked "You tired of my company already?"

"Fuck no," Casey said quickly. "I just thought _you_ might be getting tired of _me_. When you asked me to stay here, I didn't expect you to spend every minute with me. You must have other things you'd rather be doing, other people you'd rather be spending time with."

"When I get tired of you," Zeke told him, "I'll let you know." He went to a huge wall cabinet and opened it, revealing more DVD's than Casey had ever seen outside a video store. "So, what's your poison?"

Casey shrugged. "You choose."

"Okay."

Casey didn't know what to expect. Romantic comedy was definitely out of the question. Zeke was too edgy for that. Casey had seen him cut down someone with just his words, so he didn't see Zeke enjoying slasher or violent horror movies. He had just decided that Zeke was a science fiction/fantasy fan like Stokely when the plasma screen television came to life, displaying the DVD menu. " _Deep Impact_?" Casey asked. "You like disaster movies?"

"Not all of them," Zeke explained, "but I really like this one. It has a nerdy high school geek who discovers the comet and becomes a hero." He snorted. "Like that would ever happen."

Casey had been called both nerdy and a geek, but Zeke had used the words so good-naturedly that he couldn't take offense. "Sounds cool," he said.

It _was_ cool, especially when you were watching it on a big ass screen while eating a huge bowl of buttered popcorn and washing it down with an ice-cold Coke. And what was so impossible about a high school geek saving the day? 

When the movie finished, Zeke ejected the disc from the player, and as he returned it to its case, he asked, "Double feature?"

Rather than get up to examine Zeke's collection, Casey asked, "Do you have _Star Wars_?"

"The original?" Zeke queried. "Because I've got _The Empire Strikes Back_ and _Return of the Jedi_ , too."

They settled on the original. "This must have been what it was like to see it in the theater," Casey mused, but when Zeke suggested they watch the second and third films tomorrow, he asked, "Won't I be home by then?"

Zeke pursed his lips. "I guess you staying the whole weekend might make your folks suspicious. Why don't you stay here again tonight, and I'll drive you home tomorrow."

"Okay," Casey agreed. "Then you can stay for Sunday dinner. It'll be a way for me to thank you for everything you did for me."

The way Zeke saw it, he hadn't done all that much, which made him wonder why he hadn't made the same kind of minimal effort on Casey's behalf before this. There had been so many times when he could easily have stepped in. It would have cost him nothing, and would have made life so much easier for Casey. Why had it taken so long for him to realize it?

"Your Mom won't mind an uninvited guest?" Zeke asked.

"You _are_ being invited," Casey told him, "by me."

******

When they walked through the front door Casey called out in a cheerful voice, "Hi Mom, I'm home. I brought my friend Zeke home for dinner."

Mrs. Connor came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel. "Did you have a good time--" she began, but when she saw Casey's face she dropped the towel and a small cry escaped her lips. "Casey, what happened to you?"

"It's nothing, Mom."

She went to him, touching his eye, then his cheek. "But I don't understand. You said you were playing video games."

"We were," Zeke explained, "but this happened Thursday night at the party. Since it was such a nice night, some of the guys started a game of touch football outside, and I'm afraid it got a little rough. Casey caught an elbow in the face, but I assure you he's fine."

"It looks worse than it is, Mom, really. So is it okay if Zeke stays for dinner?"

"Of course, dear. Your father's in the living room. Why don't you introduce him to Zeke? I'll call you when dinner's ready."

Mr. Connor was watching television when Casey and Zeke came into the room. Engrossed in the basketball game, he didn't even glance away from the screen.

"Dad," Casey said, "this is my friend Zeke." He really enjoyed calling Zeke his friend, even if it was only pretend.

When Mr. Connor finally turned in their direction, his eyes zeroed in on Casey's face. "That's some shiner there, son," he said, but while his mother had shown concern for Casey's injuries, Zeke heard a definite note of pride in the man's voice.

"Casey caught an elbow in the face during a touch football game," Zeke told him, spinning the same tale he'd told Mrs. Connor.

The basketball game forgotten now, Mr. Connor asked, "Casey played a sport?"

"It's not a big deal, Dad."

"On the contrary," Mr. Connor replied. "Anything that gets you out from behind your camera and computer, that has you participating in a sport with other boys, is a very big deal."

"I don't plan on making it a habit," Casey shot back sarcastically, then attempting his introduction a second time, he said, "Dad, this is Zeke Tyler, a friend from school."

Zeke stepped forward and offered his hand. "Nice to meet you, Sir."

Mr. Connor seems surprised by the formality, but shook Zeke's hand. "You and Casey are in the same class?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes," Zeke confirmed. "We're both Juniors."

"You seem so much older," Mr. Connor observed.

Zeke smiled. "Not older, just taller."

Casey was relieved when Mrs. Connor called them in to dinner and the awkward conversation mercifully came to an end.

They ate in the dining room around a square, oak table. Pork chops, mashed potatoes and green beans. As much as he enjoyed eating whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it, Zeke had to admit he wouldn't mind having home-cooked meals like this every day. As she filled a plate and handed it to him, Mrs. Connor said, "It's nice to meet one of Casey's friends. I hope to see you at our home again, Zeke."

"Thank you, Mrs. Connor."

Casey knew Zeke was only playing a part, but he appreciated it just the same. As he didn't expect to ever see Zeke in his house again, or to set foot in Zeke's, he would enjoy being close to him, to pretend along with him for as long as it lasted. The weekend at Zeke's had been a beautiful dream, but eventually you had to wake up and face reality.

After dinner, Casey walked Zeke to the door, and as they stood together on the front stoop, Casey said quietly, "Thanks for keeping my secret, Zeke, both my secrets."

Rather than the "No big deal" Casey had expected in response to his thanks, Zeke said, "I'm picking up the new _Grand Theft Auto_ on Saturday. Why don't you come over for pizza and a rematch?"

"My folks can't hear us out here, Zeke," Casey told him, "so you can stop the act."

"What act?" Zeke asked innocently.

Casey sighed. "Look, you did me a favor and I appreciate it, but it's not like we're really friends, or that you'd ever want to be. Why would you?"

"Casey," Zeke asked, meeting his eyes and holding his gaze, "do you think you're the only one who has secrets?"

The question puzzled Casey. Zeke was the coolest guy in school. What could he possibly have to hide? "No, but--"

"See you at school tomorrow," Zeke said, then got into the GTO and started the engine. As he drove home, he imagined Casey still standing out on the stoop, trying to figure out what secrets Zeke had been talking about. Maybe after they got to know each other better, he'd share them with the little geek. Anticipating Casey's reaction made him smile.


End file.
